Love's Fools
by FoxyG
Summary: One is deluded, the other is blind. KxD
1. Dorian's Misconception

I did not know love; I knew beauty, and most of all I knew lust and desire. Klaus is beautiful, one of the most beautiful men I've ever come to know. Outside, the beauty is obvious. The striking features, the pallor skin, the strong chin, those gorgeous eyes and the lustrous dark hair. Not to mention the body of an Adonis.

But beauty on the inside... even I had to find that. Not many have found it inside Klaus, but I found a wild passion that reflects my own, and an irrepressible determination. He's certainly not the soft romantic I may have once hoped for, but he is a strong man who can handle one so impulsive such as I--whether or not he really likes it. His valiance is also something to note; I can't name how many times he's saved me or others in his job.

Even if he's so many wonderful things, some of these factors and others make us quite the opposites. And yet, we also clash with our similarities--perhaps even more than our differences. The dominate leaders. The determined individualists. We condescend to our inferiors to get the job done or just for the mere sake condescending. We have the constant drive to win and achieve our goals, and get quite bothered if anything stands in our way of that. Because of this, we'll resort to anything to win. We try to pretend we are exact and polar opposites, and in many ways we are, but this is not just why we've had such trials with each other. Quite simply, we both want to be the head of the totem pole, and are constantly pushing each other off in an attempt reach the top.

There were times where I've felt burning hate for Klaus. But then... it would always settle into a fascination. Never before have I had such an adversary. I can't hate him for more than some seconds. That burning hate simmers into a warmth, and it's so oddly pleasant that it has baffled me more than once. But I of course made the hasty conclusion that it must have been love, for I reasoned that true love I had never felt before, and that feeling was entirely new to my body.

Now I realize I was just being the romantic I always have been; I was in love with our adventures and encounters with one another. They were exciting and I found an odd romance in our constant meeting. I soon came to love mussing up his life, and even would go through periods of depression if I hadn't teased my dear Major for some time.

So then came in my desire for Klaus. Of course I would have very willingly had sex with him before I came to this conclusion of love, but it was now on a different level. I wanted him mine; not just as a play toy. Klaus is more than that, and he naturally puts himself on a higher plane than that.

But it may as well have been puppy love--or more rather a mere crush mixed with heady feelings. It was a playful feeling; it went along with pestering him. It was never this serious.

Those were my feelings until I saw a faint glimmer of something new--something I didn't even consider before. Klaus previously showed nothing but the most contempt and loathing for me, and though I knew we did share a begrudged camaraderie with each other, I never expected it from him. He saved my life; deliberately and thoughtfully. Of the numerous times where I was sure he wanted to kill me, that one moment shocked me most of all.

We together have had numerous close calls with bombs before, but what made this different is quite significant. He didn't just _happen_ to save me; he went out of his way to save _only_ me.

I had a carefully planned out heist of the Louvre; a dream heist for most art thieves, I'm sure. And in that strange mixture of fate and chance, my Major happened to be in Paris following reports of Neo-Nazis planning something there. As it usually happens, we were unaware we were even in the same city as each other. And little did I know that the Louvre was the target for the Neo-Nazis.

I was terribly excited for that heist. It would be my most challenging and name-making steal yet. It was cliched but perfect; I would have my hands on the Mona Lisa. It was a plan so pompous, and yet so masterful. My name would now be known further throughout the world after I steal Da Vinci's masterpiece--the painting itself would be more of a secondary prize. It was the notoriety I was truly after, for once.

As for Klaus, in his own assignment he proved quite capable. He discovered quickly what the terrorists planned; to blow up some of Europe's most prized treasures, not to mention anyone touring the Louvre, for the mere sake of bringing attention to their endeavors. Klaus knew for sure the bomb was already planted, but where it was he could only surmise, and so the Louvre was closed for some days, claiming maintenance issues so as to not call national attention.

How could I not take advantage? The museum would be empty, save for a few maintenance workers (some of whom were actually NATO agents in disguise, though I hardly knew), who I could easily move passed.

Soon came the day I would carry out my heist. But for Klaus, the day came to him on a much worse note. For a day they had been searching, and his men had all come up empty on where the bomb was hidden. They were sure it would detonate sometime that day, but obviously without the bomb they couldn't be sure exactly when.

So while I easily breezed through the Louvre into the vault where the Mona Lisa had been quite conveniently placed for me, the men searched frantically for the bomb.

Oh, but does fate always have its way.

Just as my own band received the painting and we were ready to make our get away, NATO decided to turn on the museum's security system and I was invariably locked inside the vault--alone. While worried, my men couldn't do a thing about it. The workers appeared on edge, and hustled them all out of the building as time passed.

While my incasing was rather dark and desolate, I calmed myself for a long wait. The last thing I expected was for the door to the safe to suddenly become unlocked only an hour or so later. While I was relieved, I felt an unease at the emptiness of the museum; it was quiet, the lights were off in most areas, and I saw no maintenance men walking about. More eerily, I had lost contact with my men sometime inside the vault, and therefore left completely alone.

I was utterly ignorant of what had been going on just outside. The Major was there himself, at first directing the man who had found the bomb via walkie-talkie. The bomb was in a very awkward position; clenched inside a wall behind a very heavy art piece. He only found it because the men were listening inside the walls, and lo and behold, there it was. He found that it was to go off in fifteen minutes.

So obviously, the man had a lot of trouble, first of all, getting to the bomb, and second of all, and certainly most important, detonating it.

They were running out of time; they were at 5 minutes by the time I was unintentionally let out of the vault. Klaus was cautioned by NATO to not risk more lives than needed, and sacrificed the recovery of the art pieces for the lives of his men and told them all to evacuate.

They were ready to try and contain a gathering crowd, curious at all the men in uniforms near the museum. It took the Major shouting over an intercom that a bomb was about to go off for the crowd to dissipate.

But in that crowd were my men, who were well aware that I was still in the building. Naturally upon hearing this, they went into a panic, but as usual Bonham showed the most aptitude by bustling to the front to speak to the Major.

And meanwhile, after weaving my way through a labyrinth of vault rooms, I was trapped inside a show room. I was getting a bit frustrated at this point. Looking around, I did find it rather curious that the place was in such disarray; I thought the museum was being cleaned--not taken apart.

As I observed this, I stood by the door all the while. Then suddenly it bursted open, with the Major right behind it. My eyes were perhaps the size of saucers, but Klaus hardly paid mind to my expression, only to my presence.

I was still gathering myself when he said something very fast and loud, and even then all I heard was the word "Bomb!" before I was thrust out of the room.

The Major walked fast, checking his watch every few seconds. Confused, and now rather disoriented, I was lagging. He barked at me a few times to hurry up, until finally he broke into an all out sprint, with me struggling to keep up.

I slightly forget what occurred right after we got outside; it was all a blur until the explosion happened. We were only enough feet away to avoid getting pummeled with large debris, but we were thrown back and dusted enough to look a mess.

I blame my utter confusion and shock for only realizing what had happened in that exact moment. I had come very close to being dead simply for ignorance.

But I scarcely had enough concentration at the time to register everything; it was all a bit too much at the moment. Klaus was literally on top of me--whether or not he did it to purposely protect me from the impact or because it just so happened that way, I'm unsure.

Something which startled me most out of the incident was one fleeting moment. While I was sprawled on the ground, eyes wide, Klaus lifted his head from my chest, and seemed at first hazy. And then within a second his eyes were in a panic, and he took a second to survey me in my condition. With still wide eyes, he at last surveyed my face.

His stiff posture limped slightly, and his concerned look was relieved, his green eyes softened. I couldn't help the quick blush that sprang up at such a look, even if it did only last a second. But my flush may have scared him a bit--he probably didn't realize how absolutely doting he looked in that split instant. He at first turned pink, but then went red, and he was quickly on his feet cursing at me the worst of things.

But I was lost by then. I was still so confused; especially by his behavior. I got myself up, and before I had barely dusted myself off people were rushing up to us--mainly the Major's and my own crew.

Now Klaus' countenance changed again. While they berated him (as much as you can berate Klaus without him noticing what you are exactly doing) on how he shouldn't have done what he did, he brushed them off, and most of all offered no explanation as to why he did do what he did.

He had rushed into the Louvre, when it was two minutes until the bomb would explode, all by himself and refusing any help, simply to get a stupid art thief who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and who most of all he supposedly hated.

The incident is only really known to Klaus' and my men; to NATO and the world, it's an insignificant and isolated incident to an otherwise news worthy event. Some great artwork was lost--except for the Mona Lisa, which Klaus somehow coerced me to return, because I certainly owed him more than that. The retainment of the Mona Lisa saved him some of the reprimand he received for allowing a portion of the Louvre to be destroyed.

This incident quite simply confounded me--and maybe it did the Major as well. So troubling it was; why did the Major not simply leave me to die? He thought I was stupid for being where I was, and was most of all was very angry at how I had very nearly killed him and completely complicated all his preparations.

Him being the Major, and the Major being an extremely vindictive and sometimes downright evil man at times, I would figure his thought process would go more towards how he could very easily ignore that I was in danger, rather than how he could save me. It's not as though the press or NATO would all blame him for not knowing about some dumb thief who got himself stuck in a vault; in his mind, he would just be doing society a favor by getting rid of one such as myself.

But in the two minutes where he had to make his decision and then follow through with it, he did just the opposite of what I would expect from his frame of thinking. He went out of his way to risk his life and save me.

Quite honestly, it troubled me for months. I sometimes couldn't get to sleep. My whole view on him was altered; once again he went deeper than a slight amusement mingled with some lust. Of course whenever I met with him again I tried not to act differently, but oddly enough my usual confidence around him was hindered. I felt a torrent of butterflies invade my stomach whenever I was around him, and I felt more impulsive and anxious, which resulted in much stupidity acted around him. To him this was no different than the usual, of course.

If he happened to touch me in either a friendly (as friendly as Klaus can get) or indifferently manner, I'd feel hot for some minutes after until I calmed myself back down. Worst of all, if he was being mean or cruel, it cut me far worse. I never liked it before of course, but I could always laugh at it later or rise above it. It began to become so hard to do so.

I had grown to understand Klaus somewhat, and it seemed that I had lost that in the process of months. Yet as that happened, he was on my mind even more than before.

At some point I felt I was going insane; I went for almost a year without seeing him. I grew absolutely restless, waiting for fate to take us into her hands once more. Of course I always had the option of jaunting on over to Bonn for a drop by--remind him that I exist with a little friendly prodding. But I had grown so timid! It was beyond all rationality, but he intimidated me all of the sudden.

Passed all the bumps and bruises he's given me, it's after he saves my life that I became afraid of him. It was all so absurd. After some time I couldn't stand keeping to myself. I realized in those months what a rather lonely existence I had. I've been all around the world and seen and met so many people, and I have a crew of almost 100 men at my whim, and yet I felt I had no one close to confide to. That is, until I looked to my side and realized that person had been there all along; good ol' Bonham. Not quite so naive as my other men, and not nearly so jealous as some of them can get--_especially_ James.

All surrounding me had been aware of my forlorn behavior, of course. But I don't think any suspected it had to do with my Major, whom they thought I already had established strong, confident feelings for.

"Have you ever seen me so pathetic, Bonham?" I was lounging out on a balcony having a smoke, while Bonham attended to a few of my plants, "He's making me absolutely mad, and I have no idea why."

"Well..." his mustache bristled a bit as he thought, "Ye be only human, sir. Even I ferget that sometimes too, but I s'pose yer not anymore immune to love's effects then 'nyone else be."

My jaw dropped, as did the cigarette, burning a bit on my hand. But I hardly noticed. I was a bit more daft than I originally thought; somehow I didn't even consider what I was feeling related to love.

I thought I knew love; but as I said, I truly didn't. I thought love was all romance and adventure, but what I was feeling was intense weakness and loneliness. I couldn't imagine such a down point in my life could in fact be something that I had once thought so grandly of.

"Love?" I asked, feeling my eyes widen. I got up and began to pace around, "But that can't be possible."

"Wot're you talkin' about, Earl?"

I said nothing comprehensible at that, merely flapping my jaw about with no real sound coming out. I was rather startled, to be sure.

"I mean, I figured you fancied the Major well enough a'fore, but wot you be talkin' about now can't be nothin' else. Sleepless nights, the jitters..." he shrugged, "seems to me yer body just be catching up to somethin' you decided a long time ago."

I thought for a moment, then laughed slightly, "It seems too simple of an answer."

Bonham smiled, shrugging again, "Dun think there's too much more to it, Earl."

Later I just felt stupid, but in a serene sort of wisdom about my situation. Of course I was in love with Klaus; he was my valiant German soldier. Oh, but it wasn't so simple as that. Though I felt self-confident in my love once more--even more so than the last time I felt it--I still had to wonder where I stood in Klaus' own mind.

Whether it was just pessimism or rational thinking that I figured Klaus loathed me, I'm unsure, but I knew that was my principal opinion on him. However... it would occasionally wane. Just in those moments where I recall some hint of kindness Klaus had for me, the very slightest of things he did that deviated from the norm. They were rare; like gemstone, almost.

So while I knew the great boor sometimes gave a care for my well-being, I led myself to believe that I never thought of it passed that. Of course, I did. I often saw Klaus loving me as I did him. Lofty thoughts that I never took seriously, and yet they effected me.

Enough so that I felt so much hurt today.

Did I feel some entitlement to Klaus? Of course! I still do. We two share unique experiences together, and one of the most singular relationships I know of. Such a bizarre mixture of love and hate there have never been. I've endured Hell and in-between for that man; who else but I could love him how he needs to be loved?

So never in a thousand years did I ever expect some cheap harlot to get as close to Klaus than I have. Yet without my knowing, there was a new agent to NATO, known as Natasha Fuchs.

Klaus' attention isn't easily won, but this woman knew what not to do--lay it on heavily. No, she was subtle and precise in her fiendish seduction. She knew how to impress Klaus--a whole lot of military talk with no nonsense. The fact that she caused all his Alphabets (save G) to drool over her outward appearance was only secondary.

The day I found out about her was not at all a pleasant one. NATO needed me for a mission, so I was to meet with Klaus about it at their HQ.

It was all going well; he looked adorably begrudged to see me, as usual, while I looked absolutely smashing in my wear that day. But then in strolled Ms. Fuchs, wearing the most garish shade of lipstick I've seen and not at all work-appropriate heels.

She chatted it up with Klaus... well, as much as two stiffs can chat it up. Something about papers I suspect, then something about a new military weapon they were all excited about (as excited as two stiffs can be, again). Klaus didn't seem _overly_ friendly; I hardly think he can manage that naturally. But the fact that he was being friendly in the first place did bother me severely.

After she left--oh, hell, it started when she walked in with the papers--I frowned, "That was an awfully leggy secretary."

"She's no secretary. She's Agent Fuchs."

"Not an Alphabet, then?"

"Of my division, but I'm afraid not. But I would gladly have her on my team."

At this I couldn't help but give a rather ugly facial reaction to; just what did _that_ mean?

He quickly scowled back, "I don't mean like that, you nitwit! I'm no pervert! You wouldn't understand--for a woman she has exceptional knowledge of the military and has a dedication to the job. Like a female Z of sorts."

"Z's much better looking," I said to myself, but loud enough for his ears.

He snorted, "I didn't mean in the case of looks, but I tend to disagree." He surveyed me with a dry look--well, it's something I can only idly assume, for I was quite hot and bothered after _that_ comment.

But I pushed it all into the back of my mind as the days passed. Dear, but was this mission tailor-made for myself; a luxury cruise ship! Not commercial luxury, either--top grade. I recall dabbling with those before in Klaus' and my history, but this would certainly be different.

NATO was dealing with microfilms again, but this time my cunning was needed in order to retrieve it. I was told only that I would be ordered sometime during the cruise to go and steal it away; when that would occur was to be unbeknownst to me.

In any case, it was a luxury line cruise ship off the coast of Spain, but they didn't seem it odd to have an expanse of Germans boarding--all of the Alphabets and other NATO operatives, of course. Most were rather adorably disguised as civilians--all except for Klaus. I now truly wonder if he deserves a job in espionage. The man was in his usual suit! Stiff as a board, of course. Scared the dickens out of most of the little butlers running around with his intense glares. And none found it odd as well that so many little German tourists were constantly going back and forth from this stiff-neck of a man. I'm shocked we hadn't caught the eye of any potential wandering KGB agent.

But I did have some fun with it, at least. I never expected him to loosen up and have some fun, but oh, did I tease him until his face was red.

"Do you not think it proper for someone on vacation to leave their room once in a while?" He was only asking for it; leaving his door open for his Alphabets like that. He looked up at me with contempt, but I noticed he paled slightly at my appearance. As if the man has never seen swim garments before!

"What in God's name are you wearing?!" He's so cute when he acts like a prig.

"I'm heading out for the pool, of course. Hoping to catch a sight of Z, really," I chuckled a bit at my luck; I had seen him heading in that direction, so I didn't even have to lie, "Care to join?"

He sneered at me, expectedly, "Hardly."

Very tightlipped this day, wasn't he? "You sure?" I leaned on the doorway, and once again to my luck a bit of my robe fell off my shoulder, "I'm sure you look ravishing in your swim-wear."

Hm, come to think of it, his look was rather puzzling to me then. I fully expected a dark cloud to come over his features--maybe a bit of red fury to light up his face. Silence? Perhaps, if I managed to make him _that_ angry. But rather, the silence he gave me was a very unKlaus-like silence. It was almost... hesitant? Or contemplative. And his look--only comparable to a deer caught in headlights.

It rather effected me; so much so that my rather contrived seductive expression gave way and I was left with a rather stupid look on my own face. Though he didn't get a good look at that, as he slammed the door in my face only a moment later.

Very strange. In fact, Klaus had been acting strangely as of then. My spiteful Klaus had been rather distant--but not as though he suddenly were tired of me. It was as if he had suddenly been keen on keeping his temper around me, or that he simply traded his anger in for a look of lost confusion. As though he truly didn't know how to react to me or my presence.

As I contemplated this, I must say I felt rather hurt. I've grown rather fond of our antagonistic interactions--however masochistic that may sound--and I'd hate to ever lose that between us, even if it did mean a much friendlier Klaus. That seems just unnatural, come to think of it. But what would always be worse than that is a sudden emptiness between us, with neither ill-will or love. That would be to lose Klaus all together.

I was rather forlorn as I thought of this by the pool side, but my mood only went further downward as I spotted... well, something rather unfamiliar and personally something I find rather uninteresting, but did stick out rather well in an almost completely Alphabet dominated pool. I don't even like the name of them! A bosom, is it?

Really, what got me down was the face. Though I thanked whatever deity may rule our universe that Klaus was a workaholic prig, for he was not in the pool area to witness Agent Fuchs in one of those bikini numbers. For some odd reason I hadn't seen her board the ship; though I suppose I wasn't looking for her, for how could I have expected it?

Tired of her right from the moment I spotted her, I began to leave, but to my unfortunate luck she approached me, and my gentleman's curse beckoned me to stay for a chat.

"You are Eroica, am I right?" I had to resist a small shiver at her deep voice; if Klaus wanted a man then he could just have me--but even my voice has more delicacy than that!

"The Earl of Gloria on this cruise, madam." I despise myself in how she managed to intimidate me--she was good looking, even if not to my taste. She's certainly no Venus or Madonna, but she does have some sort of industrial, modern appeal I suppose.

She had a rather angular face, with sharp features--not at all cute, but pretty I suppose. But really, she had no flair in her eyes, which were a dark, dank color, or her hair--which I suppose was acceptable for any man, but I could see lacked any sort of style to it, just sort of dangling at her shoulders. Her lack of width did rather frighten me as well--it looked as though she hardly ate a pea a day! I know Klaus could reprimand her for that. Although I do hear him talk illy of paunches quite often.

Ick, the hag was surveying me. She had these big dark circles under her eyes, too. She looked downright unhealthy, come to think of it.

"It will be a pleasure to work with you," she gave a tight-lipped smile and put her hand out to shake. She was still all wet from the pool, so naturally I wasn't going to shake it.

Honestly, why make the effort? Is it because I'm handsome and she wants to bed me or something? I shudder at the thought. Or perhaps she knows I'm getting irrepressibly annoyed. And as if I would be working with her! She holds a lower position than the Alphabets, whom I rarely must interact with anyway during these missions with NATO.

Of course I merely nodded and left, not wanting to let my temper show too much.

Again I attempted to push the tart out of mind, especially since I was required to show up to one of the cruise's party that evening for the mission. I thought perhaps it would be our time to grasp at the microfilm, and so I attended in my best attire. Of course I was rather spot on; the Alphabets and the other NATO operatives were all there, gleaning the sights of the extravagant get together with the high class guests.

Of course, in comparison it all bored me; I'd seen parties like this done one hundred times before, and done better at that. What was there to this? No artwork to showcase, which would be my prime reason for attending a party, and no real interesting party-goers. There were no artisans, poets, painters, art collectors or any of that sort--or of course any colorful criminals that I would associate myself with. No; these were all very boring business fat cats, on vacation with their trophy or grey-haired wives and their children (whom were only attending the party if they were of drinking age, luckily for me). The atmosphere was high-class, but only in the shallowest way possible; all for the sake of impressing rather than anything else.

I was a tad disappointed in the whole cruise ship, actually. Though I truly didn't know what else to expect. There could have been, perhaps, a few of noble or royal blood there, but if I haven't met them yet then I really can't be too excited to meet them now. They're truly all alike; living off of their daddy's money with no real ounce of culture to them.

Though I knew of one that was of careful breeding that would be attending. I spotted Klaus, almost expectedly at the bar. I only saw his back, but even from there I could tell it was him.

I began to approach him, but tensed up immediately; some hag was hitting on him! Some decrepit old dowager, I suspect? I could see the crow's feet from six feet away!

Of course, my Major didn't look very pleased at all with the bag of bones at the seat right next to him. As soon as I stepped up she was rejected, leaving her seat with quite a haughty and insulted face.

He looked at me, and I must say I was rather charmed--I may have even blushed a bit! He looks so very handsome in a tuxedo. It almost makes him look more masculine than he looks in a suit. I sat down next to him, which luckily he didn't protest. He gave me a rather curious look.

"I'm surprised to say I'm almost relieved to see your dumb head of hair." Goodness, did he have a few drinks in him already? An awfully cozy thing of him to say--besides the biting comment at the end.

"Getting a lot of female callers?" I smiled at his heavy nod, "I'm not surprised; you look positively handsome in a tux."

He snorted, then took a rather lazy look around. He sighed right afterwards, "I hate parties."

"You've never seemed the type to enjoy them."

Klaus looked at me again, "What about you? I expected you'd be all over the place."

"Oh, hardly. There's no one to talk to except a load of Alphabets and some drunk business men. Or, you know, perhaps some of the ladies you've been having problems with tonight."

Shockingly enough, that produced the slightest of laughs from him. He brought out a cigarette before he spoke once more, his voice dropping slightly, "We might go through with it tonight."

"Might?"

Klaus nodded, a sigh coming from him, "It's not guaranteed that I can get the information of where it is by tonight, or if we can carry on with it as soon as possible, but there is a realm of possibility; I feel it."

I raised my eyebrows, "I shan't ask."

"It's best not to."

Almost a moment later, I felt someone come up from behind us. Klaus must've felt it too, because we both turned around at the same time.

I frowned largely, but tried to hide it a hair later. It wouldn't do if Agent Fuchs was aware how I despised her already; especially when in the vicinity of Klaus.

"Major, you're looking very handsome tonight." Lord, her voice sounded so awful saying that.

"Thank you. You look stately as well." Did Klaus just... _compliment_ someone?! A very mute one, perhaps, but I don't think I've seen Klaus directly compliment anyone before--especially on their looks! Really, after years of flaunting myself around him, you'd think he would throw out a compliment once in a while. But no! That goes to this cheap harpie in a dress whose neckline is cut far too low!

I was incensed. But that was nothing compared to how I felt the next moment.

"Do you dance, Major?" my jaw dropped. She even offered her hand. My eyes snapped to Klaus. Surely he'd refuse; the very image of Klaus dancing is slightly ridiculous, even if it's something as regal as a ballroom dance or a waltz.

Klaus' eyes were surprisingly sharp, almost considering her proposal carefully. Come now, Klaus... surely you shouldn't be thinking that hard about how to reject her.

"I will--for you, Agent Fuchs."

I think my heart may have stopped.

He got up, and for an instant I felt I must have been dreaming. Or perhaps that my Klaus had been switched with a much different, more confusing and evil Klaus.

Agent Fuchs reached for his hand, smiling in an almost arrogant way, "Please, call me Natasha, Major."

I could have thrown up. I probably would have--especially if it had the possibility of distracting the Major's attention away from that woman. But he was already on the dance floor.

I wanted so much to turn away, but I was in a state of shock; as well I wanted to watch that woman's hands to see if she dare try anything. It would be then that I would make a scene. Somehow I held onto a firm hope that the Major had better reasons than of lascivious intentions. But as I tried to think of what that could be, I was all too distracted with what was playing out before me.

The Major started off very stiff and awkward in the ballroom dance, looking a bit uncomfortable. But sickeningly enough, he began to get a slight more relaxed--I could see it in his face that he was slowly enjoying it. Natasha's hands, I quickly noticed, were roving more than they should've been. They were first properly on his broad shoulders, but her groping moved downwards to his chest.

A startling bite of jealousy hit me at that; she was feeling his lovely body move under that tux. Completely and utterly unforgivable that she should have that pleasure and not me.

I was almost to my boiling point now, but I was rather more teetering between a white hot anger and a very acute weakness. I was at a lost about Klaus, feeling betrayed. Downright betrayed. It's rather embarrassing; I had no official hold on him. He was mine in my eyes only.

Self pity began to overwhelm me. How pathetic I felt. To hold on so strongly to a man that would never love me, and in fact probably hated me. Some repressed homosexual he was; dancing with a woman and letting her feel him up.

It only got worse. After the dance, she led him away. My eyes widened. They were going to a corner.

This I would not have. That sense of entitlement came to me again. Who the hell did he suddenly turn into? A playboy? The most insane thoughts came into my mind; such as, maybe he was only pretending to be the world's hugest prig to drive me away, and in fact was as sexually loose as any other man.

Nothing rational was coming to my mind at this point. I felt only an immeasurable amount of hurt, and now wanted to payback the doofus and the cheap slag for making me feel so low.

I started for them, striding across the dance hall with intent. All was lost around me; I was probably getting a lot of stares, but I didn't see any of the faces dealing them. All I saw was her long-nailed hands across his back.

I felt the drink glass still in my hands. I threw it at the ground near their feet.

Klaus may accuse me of being over-dramatic and an attention whore, but quite honestly, I never thought of catching attention to myself that way. It wasn't as if I felt cornered and like I needed the attention, as if I purely wanted my anger heard. I was just so blind with rage I thought of nothing better than to throw something.

Especially considering that after the glass shattered, my rage was gone, and I suddenly felt self-consciece and ashamed. I fled the scene, striding quickly to any place that was away. I heard voices behind me but I ignored them and only walked faster.

I began to break down as I entered an empty, small hallway. It was as if the whole incident just caught up to me, and I was so well trained to act as well as possible in social gatherings that I didn't let my emotions show until I was alone. I was well glad I was alone; I was practically bawling.

As I heard more voices behind me, I made the quick decision to flee again; this time into a nearby room. I didn't realize it was a supply closet until I turned on a light.

"Earl!" I heard familiar voice just outside the door; it sounded like one of the Alphabets. I huffed irritably, only to sniffle right afterwards. I was still out of sorts. As I remembered why I only fell apart again.

As some began beating against the door, I took a deep breath and called out, "Leave me alone!" I was happy it didn't come off as a whimper or a whine but rather as a stern order.

"Earl! Don't quit the mission!"

At this I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh; so that's what they cared about. I should've only known better. "Thank you for the concern, gentlemen!" I said in a rather brash voice unlike my own.

I suppose they began to congregate outside, because after that they stopped yelling, but I still heard voices.

I began to calm a bit, but was not nearly so settled. The pain was still there. I was still angry as well.

Then I heard the door click. I was pacing back and forth with my thoughts, trying to calm myself, and was across the room facing the door when the Major walked in. For once I scowled at his presence, not at all happy to see him.

He looked none too pleased himself. He closed the door behind him, then took to sending me a silent but deadly glare. I didn't care. I knew I was only in the wrong in his own daft mind.

"Send Ms. Fuchs home? Pity, I would have figured her father would give her an extra hour out for your date," I gave him a smile, cold enough to send one of my henchmen a chill, but never the Major. I knew this, of course; it was the expression that counted, not the intimidation.

Klaus continued to survey me with that stare of his, "You're an idiot."

I laughed slightly, but felt some tears well up a bit suddenly. His biting tone cut me and I couldn't figure out why; he's said it an infinite number of times before. I turned away to gain control of myself, wiping away my tears.

I heard his footsteps coming near me and tensed up.I looked back and was a bit shocked to see a solemn looking Iron Klaus.

He looked at me oddly, rather like how he had been looking at me as of late. "Why me?"

"Pardon?"

"Why am I cursed with an over possessive fop shadowing me?"

I bit my lip, turning away again. I didn't want how low I felt to show through to Klaus. Then a spark of anger lit up inside me, and I grasped at it, wanting to feel anything but low at this point, "Because you're cursed just as I am with an insensitive boor."

He snorted, "I hardly follow you around."

I finally looked at him again, wearily, "It's a different curse I've been dealt with."

"Please," he spat, "don't start a speech on romance. I don't care for theatrics tonight."

I scowled, "You're wrong if you think I'd lock myself up in a supply closet just for the sake of attention."

"I tend to differ. Isn't it the perfect ending after making a scene in the middle of a ballroom?"

I scowled deeper, "Major, your bullying has no point to it anymore. You can hurt me no further than you have already."

He snorted again, "You think that satisfies me? You've sabotaged the covert part of our mission. You're not getting off that easily with your damned self pity."

"So you're going to berate me?" I waved him off, now disgusted with his callousness, "Spare me. I'm not a part of your Alphabet."

He caught the hand that waved him off and held it tightly. I winced at the grip.

"Who the hell do you think you are--"

"Who the hell do you think _you_ are?!" I attempted to pull at his grip but it didn't wane, "I'm here more as a favor to you, Major! Money means nothing to me!"

"Please! You're here to oggle me and push my buttons! That's all it's been to you!"

I gave him a derisive laugh, "Believe me, love, if that had been all I wanted I would've gotten bored with you long ago. You truly are predictable to a certain point, and I'm a man of changing interests."

I hissed as his grip moved to my hand, his thumb pressing down hard in the middle of my palm. I felt stupid at the time--not now--that I was getting a little hot at his touch. He was holding on for so long.

"Klaus," I said in the most menacing voice possible--though it was enough that I called him by his first name, more than likely, "You're hurting me."

"Good," he had a scowl on his face, but after he tightened his grip and I winced, his face had turned into that odd contemplative look again.

I gave him a scowl, "My pain tolerance has gone up since I've had to be around you."

"You've only done that to yourself." I let out a whimper as he twisted my wrist, "You just never know when to quit."

Somehow, I managed contemptuous a smirk at that. I couldn't help my next comment. "I've never known the true pleasures of S&M before meeting you, Major."

Goodness the Major can slap hard. The slap he burned me with still hurts a bit now; it was enough then to make some blood bleed from my mouth. He's very lucky I didn't lose a tooth or I may have never forgave him for it.

It made me shake all over. He was beginning to frighten me. I couldn't even look up at his face, too afraid to see what was no doubt an ugly glare. His heavy breathing was enough to intimidate me. Yet at the same time I couldn't help noticing how close we were. He had put my hand against the wall and was hovering over me.

"I've had enough of you," he finally said. A tickling feeling went down my spine; I could almost feel the vibrations rumble from his low voice.

"I'm beginning to feel the same way," I said back. I looked up at his face, which was back to its contemplative look.

But then he scowled again, "I've done worse than this to you before."

I looked at him with a scowl myself, which sobered his look a bit, "You haven't. What you're doing now? Yes." I looked at my locked wrist, which the grip had lessened on. "What you did tonight all put together is what I'm speaking of."

His lips thinned, his grip tightening again, "You're an idiot."

"So I've heard."

Finally, his voice raised--shockingly he had not yelled once in this entire conversation--"If I was really so damn cozy with that woman, why in god's name would I be here now?!"

That took me aback, for I didn't actually think about that at all. I huffed, "I don't know, Major; you're a complicated man. Why don't you tell me?"

His grip on my hand tightened harshly before he threw it aside, now taking a hold of my coat and shirt. He shook me, cursed loudly in German once, then shook me once more before kissing me.

It was such a stiff kiss. And yet my knees almost buckled.

It was probably the worst kiss I've ever had in my life; my bottom lip was slightly numb from his slap, and the Major is an absolutely _terrible_ kisser, probably from years of inexperience, and at the time I was too shocked to guide him through it properly.

But at the same time, no other kiss had ever made me so weak and wanting. Warmness spread throughout my body and I felt like I was going to fall. In fact, I almost did--that's when he held me tightly, almost so that I couldn't breathe, especially with my shortness of breath.

With my arms around his broad shoulders, I separated lips. I felt so warm; I was probably completely red in the face. "Major..." I kissed him properly this time, inducing him to actually kiss my lips instead of crushing his mouth against them. It worked. I let out a shaky sigh in-between lips. I felt drunk with happiness. Feeling the vibrations of his low grunts was the most pleasant thing, second to his wanting but hopelessly inexperienced lips.

I licked his lips, and he promptly plunged down my throat, almost choking me. I attempted to let him have at me while still controlling him somewhat with my own tongue. He tasted heavily of cigarettes; I expected it. While I enjoyed his clumsy french kiss, I basked as well in groping him as much as possible. He was showing off his strength well with his grip around my waist so tight. I felt at his arms, letting out a delighted chuckle at those lovely muscles of his.

It was at this moment he bit my lip--a bit too hard. I made a rather undignified sound, which quickly signaled him to stop.

"Not so hard," I breathed, but the pain was absolutely gone once I shifted slightly; my straining cock that was previously against his leg was now up against his own groin, which was absolutely bulging. With a wry smile I couldn't help but comment, "Never mind."

Oh dear, my love stiffened up a bit. He seemed rather lost when I stopped the passion for but a moment, not knowing what to do with himself and feeling slowly uncomfortable.

I pulled him back--literally, pulling on his bow tie and giving him a kiss. To my absolute delight he kissed my bottom lip very gently, which I couldn't help a broad smile at. As we kissed I grabbed his jacket and pulled him downward--he seemed confused until he was on all fours over me.

"Aren't you hot?" I lifted a leg up a bit to rub against his groin; my own loins felt a flicker at the groan he met with that. I took a bit more control at this point. He stayed on his hands and knees as I kept my leg on his crotch and began to kiss his pale neck, which was turning a lovely shade of pink. I moved to the back of his ear at his neck, and according to his further hardening cock he seemed to like that _very_ much.

Meanwhile I undressed him, starting with the bottom of his dress shirt. While I unbuttoned and released his crisp white shirt, he took it upon himself to undress me from the top. Still on his knees he removed the jacket and dress shirt from my shoulders, leaving my neck and some of my chest fully exposed. I let him kiss my neck, which he quickly liked to do, and began to tickle my senses more with small bites and hickeys.

After I fully unbuttoned his shirt I got under him again, him giving a little protesting grunt at being away from my neck so abruptly. But my interests lay elsewhere.

I hummed in delight as I revealed Klaus' absolutely wonderful abdomen to myself. I lifted up his undershirt while coping feels at his hot skin underneath. This was where I was sure he was all mine from now on, because there was no way I'd let anyone else have that gorgeous body of his. Klaus is not merely toned, such as I would describe my own body; his muscles are absolutely rippling under his skin, from his abdomen to his arms and down to his buttocks.

As I got up to his chest I only smiled more. I hope I didn't look too depraved, because I was beginning to feel like it. His whole torso was a sight to behold, and I probably could've gotten off fine just by looking at it. Of course, touching it was all the more better.

I heard Klaus sigh above me; that's not good. I never made any partner sigh in _boredom_ before. Then again, Klaus is different than all of them.

"I knew I'd strip you one day," I said to get his attention, licking my lips afterwards. I kissed up his abdomen to his chest slowly, licking his collarbone as I got there. I could definitely get used to the taste of his body.

The calm was gone after that; any control I had before was absolutely lost. He had me pinned to the ground with the weight of his body, kissing wherever he could--my neck, my shoulders, my chest. He ripped off the rest of my dress shirt, which signaled to me that I probably would waste a lot of shirts making love to him in the future. He took a split instant to shed off the rest of his shirts, leaving me breathless at the sight.

He's completely unrefined with his sexuality; so rough and almost animalistic in his passion and want. It's lucky that I'm a man and can handle some of that fairly well, and even enjoy its raw state. If he were with a woman he probably would break her on accident. I smile now to think of Natasha's bony body being utterly broken by this powerhouse of a man.

I let out an encouraging sound when Klaus' cock thrust against mine, and continued to afterwards. I straddled my legs around his waist, trying to show him where I wanted those thrusts to go.

"Klaus," I breathed as his face came lower itself at mine. He kissed me right afterwards. "You feel wonderful." I couldn't think straight and that was all that came to mind, "Ah," I breathed as he felt my bum up.

"Do you have anything?" he asked groggily, still grinding himself into me, now using my arse for leverage onto my pelvis.

Hazily I remembered the lotion in the jacket of my tuxedo. I laced my fingers through his hair, smiling at its silky feel even as Klaus sweat, before digging through my pockets clumsily under Klaus' weight. I tried not to block out the wonderful sensations Klaus was giving me.

I finally had the lotion in hand, and put a hand on Klaus' sweating chest for him to stop his dry humping. He didn't quite get the message.

"Klaus," I said huskily into his ear, "I need your cock."

Automatically he stopped, blushing a bit more than he already was and looking as though he didn't understand my proposal. As he did this I snuck off his belt without his notice.

I kissed him, getting a bit nervous. I was afraid that his outward self would come out again and he'd shrink away from my touch. Luckily that was unfounded. His cock almost leapt into my hand.

I sighed in a very content manner while he groaned, digging his face into my hair. For a moment I selfishly felt it up, specifically wanting to remember each contour. Then I began to rubbed him teasingly slow, loving his loud frustrated grunts and groans.

"Shh," I hissed with a smile.

"You're a fucking tease." His deep voice was muffled by my hair

"As if you should be talking," I laughed lowly and removed my hand from his cock, now lowering my own pants.

At once Klaus grabbed my bare backside. I shivered at the touch. I have to admit that his gun-calloused hands on my bare skin felt shockingly right, and I absolutely delighted in that discovery. He lifted himself up somewhat to watch me prepare myself, so I gave him a bit of a show, making the best possible face to show how much I love it up the arse.

"You're making my cock hurt." He was panting at this point and the statement came with a rather desperate tone to it.

"I'm glad you can control yourself," I said with a smile, putting my head into my shoulder. Once I was done I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him more to me. He followed the rest of the way by himself, lifting my arse up to his lap.

I was absolutely lost when he entered me. I was surprised it even hurt a bit--it hadn't hurt since my first few times. He plowed himself into me, completely gone as well. I was close to coming as soon as he thrust into me the first few times, but went instead into orgasm as he touched me, not quite in pace with himself as he massaged my shaft.

He's massive; it was made all the more evident while he thrust inside me. I had to hang on to his back as he thrust wildly, unintentionally imbedding a few scratches that he probably didn't notice at all. So overwhelmed at the sensation, perhaps, Klaus came first, expectedly cursing in German. To my surprise he continued to get me off until I came a moment later.

And here I am only some thirty minutes later. He appeared asleep until now, resting right on top of me. I was resting as well when all of this hit me at once.

I hug him to my body; Klaus is mine, even if he won't admit it to himself after tonight. As I lace my fingers through his beautiful hair once more, he shifts.

"Earl..." he says into my ear.

"Dorian," I correct automatically.

"Dorian," I can't help but hum at that--his deep voice saying that makes me all hot, "You can't tell anyone about this."

I roll my eyes; always a damper. "Of course not, silly."

"I'm serious."

"As am I." His head lifts up and he gives me a look that was meant to intimidate; I meet it with a confident stare, "I'm not stupid. I know what it would do to you." I attempt to seal it with a kiss, but as I touch his lips he turns away. "Klaus..."

"Hang on, my dick was sitting on the ground."

"Oh," I sort of forgot about that. I had pulled my pants up a long time ago. I lift myself off the ground and watch him without thinking. He looks back, and gives me that odd look of his.

I smile, "What's that strange look on your face?"

"What look?" he turns back into scowly Klaus.

"I don't know; I was asking you."

There's the face again, and then suddenly he blushes and shakes his head. "S'nothing."

Just in these moments I uncover more about Klaus; maybe there is a sweetness underneath all that sourness of him. I certainly know now that there is at least affection.

Love... we can discover it together, can't we, Klaus?

_TBC._


	2. Klaus' Confusion

A/N: It's weird writing Klaus when he's not acting like Klaus. Not that he's OOC; he's just very much off his game in this, essentially, and lacks his usual fire because of it. You'll see what I mean. Tell me how I did, though.

---

God, what did I just get into.

I'm going through the list of who to blame; it keeps going back to myself. Dorian is still on there, though. The stubborn twit made me stupid, and I've been stupid for months. Maybe even years. But at least I'm not a coward anymore.

It must've been that damn scarf. The fop probably doesn't even remember, which makes me feel even worse about it.

One day the office was completely empty; as usual it was one of those minor holidays that slackers used as an excuse for a day off of work. I came in anyway, since I had paper work to take care of and knew there was nothing better to do on a day off. Not to mention I liked the silence of the office. Without all the Alphabets wanking off it's easier to concentrate.

All was going well enough, until Mr. Chaos himself sneaked his way in. He had to make me look stupid by standing over my shoulder, too, waiting for me to notice.

"My goodness, that's a lot of paperwork for one agent."

I nearly jumped out of my skin; my usual senses weren't quite with me that day, obviously. But that was the last thing on my mind as the Earl gave me a cocky look. He was feeling damn good about himself that he managed to scare me, I'm sure.

For some odd reason I wasn't shocked by his presence. By now I think I've gotten used to the inevitability of us meeting. Just when I'm close to erasing the fop from my mind he makes another appearance, to my obvious disdain.

"What in God's name are you doing here?"

Shit. I want to slap myself whenever I think it, but he looked... good that day. Of course it only hit me after he left. It wasn't his particular garb, nor did he look particularly different. It was something about his demeanor that seemed more vibrant--for lack of a better term.

But as I said before, these thoughts came only afterward. At that point in time I was too irritated to notice anything as trivial as that. To have my peace interrupted was one thing, and another was to also have to deal with the most maddening person I've ever had to know.

"I came to bid you a happy Good Friday, but..." he frowned, "It seems you're not exactly celebrating. Not even in the church napping?"

I scowled, "If you don't have any God damned business being here--"

"Business, love? I'm on holiday, just like every other normal person in Europe."

I snorted, "Normal people wouldn't have to take a holiday off from gallivanting around the world."

He smiled with a little titter, "True," he looked at me lazily, "I suppose I did just use it as an excuse to come see you."

In an instant... something in me faded, and remains faded to this day. That something wasn't my temper with the thief, as it's still evident. And it wasn't my contempt, as I still loathe him in many ways. I've surmised by now that it may have been something I didn't even realize I had--it was some defense I had put up against Dorian's charm. I can't help but cringe at the thought. I don't like to think of it as him winning me with his little manipulation techniques, so I like to think of it as more something that just suddenly caught up to me.

Why it happened in that moment, I can't explain.

This didn't come from the stupid thing he said; God no. But as he said it, he was fiddling with a scarf around his neck, or whatever the hell it was. Some voluminous thing I can't see any use for. I'm unsure if he did this intentionally, but as I watched him do this, my eyes strayed automatically to his neck. I can't say why it appealed to me, but my body reacted against my will.

In that moment, any sharpness I had was gone for a split second. Despite this, I came to in a moment. I frowned deeply, "Come cause trouble for me, you mean."

He sighed--not in a half-hearted, theatrical way, either. That was another thing about Dorian that day. His elaborate act of a mischievous, lecherous thief was weaker than usual. He let legitimacy slip through the cracks of that egotistical barrier of his.

Hmph. As if I should be speaking about egotistical barriers.

"I merely meant to see if you were well. I knew if I phoned that you would probably hang up or refuse to speak with me," he frowned--this time a theatrical pout.

I scowled, "What's your real reason for coming here?" At this point I was in-between believing what he was saying and doubting him severely.

"Major, must you always suspect malicious intentions of me? I'm not always against you, after all." His eyes wheeled up to the ceiling, "I can recall many instances where I've come through for you."

"Pfft," I did it loudly enough so that he would be put off--it worked, "Perhaps in your own deluded world. Every time we work together you somehow manage to screw me over."

Dorian sighed again, "You win on that part, I suppose. But I assure you, this time I'm without any more reason than to see you." He looked me straight in the eyes. I blinked.

"You came here to annoy me, didn't you?"

He let out a strange, yet genuine laugh... what would be his fop word for it? Melodious? It caused my stomach to lurch, either way, and I have to admit that I'm unsure if it was out of contempt or attraction to the sound.

"Major, you know me too well," he gave me a look--that lecherous look of his--before he did something that I didn't know until then he had the damn bollocks to do.

The damn degenerate kissed my cheek!

It shocked me to the point of freezing, so he had the chance to get away. He was too far away to choke by the time I yelled, _"You sick deviant!" _He let out a laugh at that, opening one of the office's windows. I ran to it just as he escaped, shouting out, _"INTERPOL WILL HAVE YOUR ARSE BY TONIGHT! MARK MY WORDS!"_

There was but an echo of a laugh before he was out of sight.

I punched a wall. Then I hit it again, harder after imagining it was Dorian's cocky face. Breathing through my teeth I walked back to my desk and slumped down on my chair. He ruined my whole day within the space of a few minutes.

The worst of feelings came after my temper settled itself. After I remembered just what he had done, I felt all prickly down my spine. That sickened me, so I went into the washroom to splash cold water on myself.

Just as I came back, however, I noticed something sitting on my desk. The damn scarf.

I stared at it, then grimaced. The repulsive nitwit either left it there to mock me, taking it off while I was in a state of shock, or was fiddling with it so much like a damn child that it got loose and fell off.

Prickly feelings suddenly back, I grabbed the thing and threw it into the trash bin. I smiled a bit afterwards, imagining the face he would have if he knew where that scarf went. He probably paid a load for it.

Stupidly enough, I was curious at the time to see what material it was made out of--so I could assess _just_ how much money the fop wasted on it. I took it out of the bin, then began to feel the contours of it. It was soft, very soft, and liquid-like in movement. I sneered, "Silk." Figured. Only the finest for the Earl. Most of what he wore was probably that fabric--at least if he had to choose.

That was a strange day for me, to say the least. I don't think I was working quite right at all, because those train of thoughts somehow made me remember all the ridiculous outfits Dorian's worn over the years. Was he wearing silk when I first met him? No--well, maybe that scarf he wore was...

I gasped, dropping the scarf. Only a minute later I shook my head at my overreaction to the discovery. It was the same scarf.

It was stupid of me to be so surprised over it. He probably had dozens of them, and decided to wear that one for no particular reason. Or because he hasn't worn it in give or take seven years.

Or perhaps I was just assuming too much. It wasn't like it was a very special looking scarf. A solid color and without any adornments. It could very well be a different scarf than what he wore then, I figured, just the same color.

Of course, I knew it was the same. I felt it in my gut.

I scowled. Suddenly the craziest thoughts came to my mind. Maybe he did intend to leave the scarf, and intended it to be _this_ scarf. He wanted to screw with my mind. He did come just to do that, after all.

I huffed and threw it away again.

Only a moment later, however, my mind got the best to me again. The scarf felt a tad warm, I realized. I remembered where the scarf had just been--on Dorian's bare skin. Strange prickly feelings came back.

Cursing, I picked it out of the bin again. I felt it again, then felt heat rise to my face. Dear God, was I blushing?!

It felt warm. How long had Dorian been gone for? I looked at my clock. It had only been five minutes. I blinked. Why was I still thinking about him?! I should've been trying to get him out of my head by now.

I cursed again, threw away the scarf for the last time and got ready to leave the office. I wouldn't have gotten any work done with my mind jetting off to such random places.

Of course, my mind didn't stop as I left the office. On the way home to work, I was jolted back to stupidity as I saw a red lamborgini on the road. I almost thought it was Dorian, but shook it quickly out of my mind. It was going far too slow to be Dorian.

When I got home, I went straight to my liquor cabinet. My hand happened to graze over a bottle. I took it out and blew the dust off of it. It was a bottle of Moselle. God. I cursed the stupid coincidence before putting it back where it was.

With a shot glass and my strongest booze I walked into the next room. Mr. Pumpkin Pants was there to greet me. Sheisse.

I looked up at the painting--truly analyzing it for the first time in possibly my whole life. I was indeed in a strange mood. But it would only get stranger as a thought crossed my mind. Was Dorian here before he snuck into my office?

I called my butler. "Was the Earl here earlier?"

His eyebrows raised, "No, sir. Why? Is he in Bonn?"

To my shame I flushed again, looking away, "No reason." He probably felt a little startled by my abrupt reply, and so excused himself and left.

I sat down heavily on an armchair and scruffed up my hair. I was getting a headache and realized my stomach felt strange. I went upstairs to take a nap. Something I rarely do, but I figured there was not much better to do when I was feeling so odd.

I was about to sing myself to sleep when suddenly I remembered the most trivial of details of when I was abducted by Mischa in Alaska. Dorian's face after ripping that painting. Genuinely enervated, rather than all puffed up like he usually is. Vulnerable.

Prickly feelings came again. I had to figure out some way to get rid of that retched feeling. I moved my shoulders about, stretched out all of my body--but that would only work for a second. I sighed and collapsed into bed again.

Luckily I had brought my booze with me. I took a shot, then another... I suddenly remembered that time when Dorian got absolutely sloshed after only a couple drinks. I smirked, then remembered the result of that incident. I completely kept my eyes off Dorian the whole time he danced, obviously trying my best to compromise with that damn oil tycoon over the Lubyanka papers, but for an instant I was obviously forced to look.

Stupidity. _Why_ did I suddenly think of that? The worst possible thing to think of. Dorian half naked and dancing--why then? Why at all? More stupidity--I remember he was dancing like an idiot to try and get _my_ attention in the first place. A stupid attention whore... but... my stupid attention whore.

I spit out the shot I had just taken. I literally did think that, only to reread it over and over again to see if it truly crossed my mind. I felt sick to my stomach. Then I felt weak and shaky. I had to get rid of these thoughts, fast.

I rushed into my bathroom, disrobed and stepped into an ice cold shower. I scrubbed my face and my hair, just to busy myself. After I stepped out I was shivering, but it wasn't the deep shake that was rattling my bones earlier. I felt slightly better, especially since I resolved not to think before singing myself to sleep.

This was an odd spell I had. They came frequently to me in the next following months, but they were not nearly as long. Mere, fleeting thoughts in comparison. But there was a change. Not enough for anyone to notice, of course. Enough for myself to realize I was altered invariably in thought.

The simplest things began to remind me of Dorian. For once I could not manage to erase him out of my mind before he made an appearance again. I had begun to become so good at it, too, only to completely lose the precious ability to forget. Then, rather than these new thoughts being mere observations, they came with sometimes confusing, strong feelings. Sometimes I felt irrepressibly annoyed--as if he was standing right in front of me with a cocky smirk on his face. Sometimes they were just... confounding. Ones that I can't even figure out. Suddenly I would just feel lost or depressed--things I never feel on a regular basis.

Luckily, as I said, they were short feelings and were gone as I was jolted back to reality. These strange bouts of nostalgia weren't evident enough to catch any outside attention, only through my effort to act normal. But perhaps they have, and the Alphabets have been too quiet about it for me to hear it in their conversations. I think work was a blessing to have, otherwise I may have gone more insane than I already was going.

I didn't see Dorian again until the cruise ship mission. I really was keeping a lot from him. Most of the mission was a complete set up, just to arrest a KGB spy working for NATO. Of course I detested such overly drawn out missions, just for the mere sake of arresting a spy that was right in the palm of our hands--but the Chief insisted I don't be so brash about the arrest. "She is a woman, afterall," he had said. Hmph. Not to mention they had a feeling she wasn't a mere pawn of the KGB; perhaps a special agent. Which meant it would take more to arrest her and get the information we wanted.

In reality, I was given the mission months earlier, before I was told to call Eroica in for it. I was informed that Natasha Fuchs was a spy for the KGB. She had begun to work for NATO some time prior, so we had only just found out when I was assigned the mission. We needed to know exactly what she was doing, what we could get from her back once we detained her, but most of all we needed to first move her into a more controllable section of NATO. My division, but not under my rule. I was told to keep an eye on her while more intel was acquired.

I truly wish it was a man. Not in a perverted way, of course--but because she was such a slag. And I truly wondered how they couldn't figure out she was Russian before. Her German accent was good enough, of course, but that voice was absolutely startling. She was so skinny and gaunt, too.

She had been coming on to me throughout the course of months. Quite the source of annoyance. She's even outright grabbed at my crotch! She was worse than Dorian. Of course, she backed off slightly after that, as I insinuated that if she try anything like that again that she would receive a bloody stump in place of a hand. I couldn't be forwardly disgusted with her moves, though. I didn't know what this mission would eventually call for, and didn't want to make her all huffy over me at being rejected. I had been playing apathetic to ever so slightly friendly up until then.

I rather dreaded the day Dorian would find out about her. Such thoughts only came in passing, of course. At the time I didn't I care if he would get upset. Despite any of his hopes, we didn't have anything at all that would make his jealousy justified. I felt dread only because it would make him catty towards her, which embarrasses me a little, I have to admit.

I've been quite aware how me and Dorian's relationship can be looked at for years. Just because I absolutely loathe it doesn't mean I'm an idiot about it. Dorian's flagrant homosexuality with my contempt for females is enough to make any idiot jump to conclusions. What they don't realize is I loathe Dorian far more than women; in fact, I don't even loathe all women. Just the ones that come onto me so presumptuously.

Besides that, I was more afraid that Dorian would paint me gay as he has been doing for the past years, now in front of Natasha. And by the time it came around for his part in the mission, I came to realize it would come down to me--I choke at the word--essentially seducing Natasha. It would leave the seasoned spy at her most vulnerable, and she seemed more than interested, to my disdain.

For once I could avoid Dorian turning my mission awry, and I would damn well see to it. I would not let Dorian make me look like I was gay.

Of course, plans for this only lead me to think more about Dorian. My stomach felt strange the day Dorian was to come in to meet me in my office. He got his first impression of Natasha there.

There was a spark in him again. It was hard to act normally around him, but I could concentrate on briefing him on the mission, so I managed it then. Natasha walked in and left, acting more subtle than usual. It was probably because there were people around. She's quite good at being two-faced. She would be the most degrading woman on the face of this earth if she happened to catch me alone, but outside that she appeared very respectable and genial. Perhaps she knew from the KGB I didn't appreciate showing off; though I would call it a failure on the KGB's part for the fact that they didn't realize I didn't appreciate inappropriate come-ons even more.

As she left me, Dorian's look had significantly soured. I almost enjoyed the poisonous look he was sending her. I shudder now to think why. The word for it is like vomit in my mouth, but I'll say it anyway--cute. It was cute. And it used to annoy me so, just like all of his looks.

But I had to act normally, so I quickly brushed him off as he made catty remarks. Perhaps intentionally egging them on as well.

The day to board the cruise ship came. The whole thing was a set up, so I figured it wouldn't be important to really play the role all that much. I was tempted to tell Dorian the whole plan more than once, but I remembered that he really had no reason to know until the time came for him to play his part. Not to mention that I couldn't fully trust him with all the information on the mission. He's been liable to do things his own way before.

I distanced myself from Dorian. Emotionally, that is. I haven't been able to escape that fop physically before, so I opted for the next level of distancing. I became less inclined to pay attention to his antics, and therefore less inclined to fuel them further on. I excused it as both something essential for the mission's success, but also an effective way to avoid terrible Dorian experiences in the future.

Truly, I realize now, I was doing it to protect myself from acting like a fool. I suddenly felt very backwards around Dorian. It's not as though he suddenly didn't annoy me, or that I couldn't get angry with him, but... the proper word for it is confounding me, but I can only say I felt a... pleasant twinge whenever he _wasn't_ being a complete idiot. I also felt more weak and dazed, which was strange as well. I almost thought I had a bug until I took my temperature and realized I was fine.

I was afraid such new feelings would effect my speech or behavior significantly, so I hid it. Whenever Dorian said something frivolous, I met it with a straight face, as if I didn't hear him. Whenever he tried to tease me, I met it with a cool look before turning away. Whenever he flirted with me, I absolutely pretended I didn't notice. I didn't yell at him at all, I think, throughout the whole cruise ship ride.

That distancing was broken in one incident, thought, at least.

The man showed up in swimming garments at my door. It rather threw off all my senses, so I completely forgot what I was doing and acted as I usually would act.

I realized afterwards that without my tactic, I was acting fairly normal around Dorian. Just plain peeved. That is, until it was lost in one instant. The sunlight hit him just right, a bit of his robe came off... as soon as my eyes moved off of his annoying face and I saw all of him, I was speechless.

Luckily I wasn't so senseless to see that he had noticed. I quickly slammed the door, to avoid him thinking too much more about it.

The cruise ship's stupid party was that night. I haven't been to a party in ages; I always avoid the ones my father wants to drag me to. All he does is take me over to bachelorette to bachelorette, none of whom are anything for stimulating conversation. I would've insulted all those senseless hens on the spot if my father hadn't been watching me like a hawk, so I had to endure all their nonsensical gossiping until I could excuse myself to the bar. Inevitably my father would catch me there and the process would start all over again. As I realized this scene would happen every single time, I began to make up excuses not to go to the parties he offered to me.

This being a luxury cruise, I expected to see many upper-class, possibly single women there. It made me rather sick. Luckily, I wouldn't be forced to associate with them. Just one woman, and I would be done with her by the end of the night--Natasha.

I wanted to make sure I'd get the information on the microfilm from her by that night, and then arrest her. I could do that by making her comfortable, then surprising her. That way she couldn't pull any tricks on us and escape. But what was essential to that is secrecy. I had to get her elsewhere. Not cause a scene in her arrest. If she had anyone from the KGB as back up attending the party, they would either cause trouble or send word back that she had been apprehended. That would complicate things immensely, and so she would have to be arrested elsewhere.

If that private place ended up being her bedroom, fine; I could endure some minor molestation if it would end up with her captured. It was supposed to go smoothly. Seduce Natasha enough to her bedroom. Arrest her. Get information on the microfilm. Have Eroica procure the microfilm. End of mission, and I can go home.

Little did I realize--and how stupid I am to have not thought of it before--nothing will go smoothly if it involves Dorian in it.

I wasn't nervous at the party. Just begrudging whenever I should make my move on Natasha. I figured I should booze myself up a bit---so that I was a bit more relaxed. Sickeningly enough, however, women began to move towards me. One dowager, who had to be some ten years older than me--she had a damn grey streak through her hair--was particularly obnoxious.

"Oh, my, so you're German?" she drawled, and I could tell she was American. I had just told her said something in German, hoping it would make her go away. "Do-you-speak-English?" she said slowly, now, as if I was a retard.

"Yes. I just said you look like an old horse chewing on some cud when you talk." I said, taking another sip of my drink.

Expectedly she gasped, calling me some name before stomping off.

I felt someone else behind me, so I turned around, feeling something leap inside me as Dorian he sat down next to me. I could easily say I was relieved to see him, so I said it, the booze making me feel a bit more loose with my tongue.

In comparison to women, I suppose at times Dorian does annoy me less. He doesn't always talk about useless, frivolous things with me. And sometimes I think he only forgets that I detest such talk to annoy me.

We talked a bit before Natasha interrupted. After she asked for a dance, I realized it would certainly be the best chance to charge right in. Though something, for a moment, made me hesitate.

I knew Dorian was simmering. Boiling, even. He didn't need to vocalize it, and I didn't even need to see it. If Dorian could get jealous over nuns, then this woman would make him a monster.

I didn't realize then what was needed to avoid catastrophe. I'd been too busy worrying about what Dorian's jealousy might simply look like--not what the jealousy itself could ultimately cause. I took her hand and we were on the dance floor.

I hate dancing. Her perfume was far too strong, too. But soon I concentrated on my mission as we began to talk.

"The Earl, is... um..." Natasha smiled coyly. I hate it when women do that. "Not very fond of me, wouldn't you say?"

"He loathes you." I answered cooly.

She laughed, "Why is that?"

"He's... in love with me." I said with a shrug. That doesn't make ME gay, necessarily, so I figured that it was self-evident enough anyway.

"Oh," she said, not as though it surprised her. The KGB knew he was homosexual already, after all. "I can see why. You're a very handsome man, Major."

"Klaus," I said, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes. I knew it would've been a very good idea to compliment her back, but... I've never been good with ad-libbing such things on the spot. My "stately" comment was thought up before the party, and it would've looked stupid to repeat it.

"Klaus," she seemed satisfied enough at that privilege, at least, "Do you know anything about the microfilm yet?"

"You know as much as I do as of now," I raised an eyebrow, "I'm working on it. Why?"

She gave me another coy look, "Well... I might know where it is."

Now, I knew she was a tart, but I didn't think she was stupid. The KGB would not hire a woman spy if they knew she was stupid enough to spill the beans to whoever she happened to fancy. She was up to something--utilizing whatever sexual charms she and the KGB thinks she has.

Of course. She was here not only to pass on information via microfilm, but also to kill me. My, my, my. The KGB must not have their head on straight if they think a woman is what can defeat Iron Klaus.

With a renewed sense of confidence, I asked what would be expected of me, "Why didn't you tell anyone this earlier?"

"I... thought we might discuss it over wine, Klaus," she smiled.

I smirked, which seemed to serve well in convincing her I was interested, but was really just my reaction to realizing I had truly hit the nail on the head. "That could be arranged," I said to her.

Wine to poison me with? I won't risk drinking it then, I suppose. Or maybe she'd try a knife or a gun at the back of me, so I'll keep an eye on her as soon as we're out of the crowd.

The feeling of success began to well up inside me, so I led her away to seal the deal. I would've cringed earlier at the thought of a kiss, but I realized I would only have to do it once, just to make everything convincing.

The scene was shattered before me, however. Everything went to shambles as soon as Dorian broke that glass in front of us.

I was shocked, looking on at his back as he left. Just fucking left. That petulant nitwit didn't even realize how he had just sabotaged everything. Everyone in the room was looking at us, Natasha was as shocked as I was--though seemed a bit more offended--and ALL the Alphabets at once began to panic because they're a pack of bloody idiots who don't know when to keep a low profile.

Only two things could have happened after that. I could go off with Natasha anyway, while in a fitful temper Dorian leaves the mission, thereby possibly ruining our chances of getting the microchip. Or I could go after Dorian, punch him silly for being such an idiot and threaten him to stay on the mission, while Natasha escapes, since she was well aware she just incriminated herself by saying she knew where the microchip was.

I knew he would quit the mission. I won't pretend I don't know the man well. Dorian's never been that upset before, and he just publicly humiliated himself and damn well knew it; that together leads to him being a bloody coward. He was already running away from the scene.

I realized I should have the Alphabets split responsibilities with me. They were needed to arrest Natasha. They're definitely too stupid to wheel Dorian back to reality. The answer was obvious after that thought.

With one hand to keep Natasha, I yelled for the Alphabets, _"Arrest her, now!"_

If we didn't have the whole room's attention before, we certainly had it now. I left as soon as they surrounded her. We were missing a few prudently-thinking idiots who had gone after Dorian, but she was definitely outnumbered.

"Keep her. Try to get anything out of her before I get back. Don't call for me." I was too pissed off to interview a woman. I don't have the lack of moral fiber to beat the intel out of her, and that's all I felt like doing--like beating up anyone, really.

If any KGB agents were watching, they certainly had an interesting report to send back.

I trampled anyone on my way to Dorian, too pissed off to see more than a haze in front of me. I got to where he was by hearing the Alphabets talking.

"Get back to the others, you bloody imbeciles," I ordered, "We've arrested Natasha."

"Sir--he might quit the mission." Bloody G. Of course he was there.

"He fucking won't after I beat the living shit out of him," I made it evident enough that I wanted them out of there, so they quickly left after that.

I walked in. I was still pissed off, even when I saw Dorian's beaten look. He looked... pathetic. Like some mock-Dorian that couldn't nearly pass off as real. He wasn't bloated enough to be real. His eyes were puffy, his hair was a mess--he looked as though he just weathered a storm. His pomp was all used up; or so it seemed.

Except that he tried to paint it as though he wasn't pathetic.

"Send Ms. Fuchs home? Pity, I would have figured her father would give her an extra hour out for your date." Even in this condition he had to attempt that stupid act of his.

I had to call him what he was for that. "You're an idiot."

I suddenly hated him. He was so upset over what? Crying in a broom closet all for what? Someone who wants nothing to do with him. Someone who's despised him from day one. He's pathetic. I wanted to slap him for getting so upset.

What did I do to deserve such a frustrating state of affairs? Why me?

"Why me?" I asked, not that he could answer it.

"Pardon?"

"Why am I cursed with an over possessive fop shadowing me?"

I was a bit surprised by his brazen answer. "Because you're cursed just as I am with an insensitive boor."

I suppose he got points for being parallel. But not for a small detail. I never chose to annoy the shit out of him, as he was implying. "I hardly follow you around."

"It's a different curse I've been dealt with." Fuck with the dramatics. Why did he bother with it anymore.

"Please, don't start a speech on romance. I don't care for theatrics tonight." Though I had enough already.

He scowled, in a way that I could tell was genuine, at least, "You're wrong if you think I'd lock myself up in a supply closet just for the sake of attention."

Hmph. As if he's never done anything stranger before for that sake. "I tend to differ. Isn't it the perfect ending after making a scene in the middle of a ballroom?"

"Major, your bullying has no point to it anymore. You can hurt me no further than you have already."

Selfish. Always selfish. Always about him.

"You think that satisfies me? You've sabotaged my mission. You're not getting off that easily with your damned self pity."

"So you're going to berate me? Spare me. I'm not a part of your Alphabet." And that git apparently had the balls to wave me off. Like a pissy secretary or some snot nosed teenager.

I grabbed his hand. First mistake. I was too pissed off to think properly, though. "Who the hell do you think you are--" I was going to ask, but was interrupted by a certain idiot.

"Who the hell do you think _you_ are?!" He's really weaker than he looks. He tried to pull at me but I scarcely budged. "I'm here more as a favor to you, Major! Money means nothing to me!"

I could've laughed at that. "Please! You're here to oggle me and push my buttons! That's all it's been to you!" I knew that wasn't true. But I also knew it had a good chance of hurting him, which was my new aim in mind.

His laugh was rather searing. I barely hear anything like that from him, so some of his comments then were rather surprising. "Believe me, love, if that had been all I wanted I would've gotten bored with you long ago. You truly are predictable to a certain point, and I'm a man of changing interests."

He was pissing me off more, so I moved my thumb to a point where my vice grip would really fucking hurt. Something I learned outside of military training.

"Major," a kitten could've giggled at that voice of his; was he trying to threaten me? "You're hurting me."

"Good." I tightened my grip. Stupidly, I looked at his face while doing it. Only that idiot could manage to look completely... attractive still while in pain. It gave me the prickly feeling.

"My tolerance for pain has gone up since I've had to be around you." More theatric crap.

"You've only done that to yourself." I had him in a damn vice grip and he still wouldn't stop with the games. I twisted his wrist, "You just never know when to quit."

He smirked. I rather liked the way it looked until he opened his mouth. "I've never known the true pleasures of S&M before meeting you, Major."

I slapped him. Hard. It pissed me off that his theatrics only got worse when he was under such stress.

I felt all my veins pulsing. Yet I couldn't help notice how when Dorian's hair was in a mess, with sweat rolling down his face, he still managed to look so good. It pissed me off more. I took the chance to calm down a bit when he had his face to the ground. I was really close to hitting him again, just to get the weird feelings out of me.

"I've had enough of you." On top of being furious, I was now confused.

"I'm beginning to feel the same way." That struck me somehow. Even I could realize that Dorian was genuine in his like for me, even if it was never mutual. He couldn't have lost that just by a slap like that, could he? Maybe he was just blowing hot air again, but at this point I couldn't be sure.

"I've done worse than this to you before."

"You haven't. What you're doing now? Yes. What you did tonight put all together is what I'm speaking of."

Nitwit. Stupid. Idiot. Imbecile. All those words and a plethora more like them aren't strong enough to describe Dorian then. How could he still be on about that woman?! She's the most trivial part of this whole argument. "You're an idiot."

"So I've heard."

I'd had enough. Fuck it. "If I was really so damn cozy with that woman, why in God's name would I be here now?!"

"I don't know, Major; you're a complicated man. Why don't you tell me?"

... How could he not know? How could he not have realized it by now? I thought he knew me. I thought he was somewhat perceptive. Why the fuck else would someone argue with another person for so long in a God damn supply closet?!

I realized, then, that I didn't even know.

Until I looked down at Dorian.

Shit... no. Please, God, no.

Oh, but I'm not an idiot. I'm just stupid. I'm not an idiot enough to deny that I'm completely, and stupidly in love with Dorian.

The only emotion that sprang up was frustration. Frustration with myself for not realizing it. Frustration at myself for letting it happen. Frustration at myself for letting Dorian do this to me. Frustration at my fucking luck.

I'm at a loss to explain what happened next. I kissed him, too frustrated to tell him in words, and all control was lost there. It was stupid. I should've known that as soon as I did it I would get completely aroused and wouldn't be able to control myself from going further. But I couldn't speak; I could only act.

I'm too busy thinking about everything else to fully register what I had just done with Dorian in a supply closet. I'll file it in the back of my mind, though.

Dorian's made me stupid. I've made myself stupid. I get those stupid feelings back whenever Dorian looks completely beautiful. He looks beautiful now. He's genuinely happy that I just gave up all my inhibitions for him. Whether or not that's a good thing I'll decide later.

"What's that strange look on your face?" he says in the most placid expression I've seen him with.

"What look?" I pretend to not know what he's talking about.

"I don't know; I was asking you."

"S'nothing." I won't give him the satisfaction of being called anything nice. He knows it too much himself already.

I can't help looking at him again, though. Now he's returning it with a look that's extremely perverted. He crawls over on all fours, giving me a kiss.

Shit. He's making me more stupid.


End file.
